Let Go
by Absentia
Summary: “She was unnaturally arranged beneath the thin, pale blue blanket, terribly still, one small, delicate hand placed picturesquely over her chest, as if they were halfway to laying her in the coffin.” deathfic, slight RR


**Summary: **"She was unnaturally arranged beneath the thin, pale blue blanket, terribly still, one small, delicate hand placed picturesquely over her chest, as if they were halfway to laying her in the coffin."

**Rating:** Rated "Mature" because death is a serious subject.

**Genre:** Drama/Tragedy

**Pairing:** Rae/Rob-ish

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"Your skin upon my skin, your fingertips upon my fingertips, your lips upon my lips. That would be the sweetest sin."

"One last stain on this dark soul, one last sin to fly away."

"Does the bell toll for thee, for thee?"

_**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

The candle flames guttered in the hush of the air conditioner, failing to warm the clinically cold room, failing to lend ambience to the nightmarish white walls and shining steel. The air stank of industrial strength cleaner and that wretched, indescribable stench of weakness.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

The steady metronome was mere background noise to the quiet death of each suspiration passing between parched, pale lips. Thick lashes curled like black grins upon her cheeks, twitching as her eyes moved restlessly beneath the thin, bluish lids. Indigo locks that were losing their luster were carefully arrayed around her head, leaving her face a pale oval floating in a dark pool against the starch white backdrop of the pillow.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

She was unnaturally arranged beneath the thin, pale blue blanket, terribly still, one small, delicate hand placed picturesquely over her chest, as if they were halfway to laying her in the coffin. The other hand was stranded at the edge of the hard mattress, palm open, empty, waiting.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

A larger, masculine hand ended the long wait, sliding slowly over the small, cool palm, twining the thin, delicate fingers in his long, knuckled ones, the quiet rasp of skin on skin. She was cold, icy, and his hands felt hot, so hot. His hand squeezed hers, attempting to transmute some of that heat to her chilly flesh.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

His sad brown eyes drank in the whisper of the girl he'd once known, willed, begged, pleaded with the unresponsive figure to stir, just once, for the flickering lids to open, for the white lips to form words of reassurance or recognition. He smoothed her carefully ordered tresses, fingered the crisp ends, mussed them with deliberate care.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Angry, he took the hand from her chest and moved her arm more naturally over her abdomen, curled the fingers over her hip. He rumpled the smooth blanket, untucked it from the corners of the mattress, flipping a corner down to reveal the ugly hospital gown they clothed her in. He tilted her face slightly to one side, towards him, casting half her face in shadow from the shuddering candles. She looked now like a quiescent thing of terrible beauty, a remorseless angel or a redeemed devil. His chest only tightened, his breath hitching and pulse tripping.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

She had waited too long, far too long. She had bided her time for years and kept her patience until all chance had come and gone like a thief in the night. She had watched in silence as her windows of opportunity closed in her face, and opened for another. She watched the other climb through her windows and into his arms, still never speaking. Her voice raised to sing mournfully to him only when she was certain all hope had drowned under her placid lake of tears and silence, and she knew he would not be able to join her in her lonely melody. She had waited to lift her sad notes to his ears until it was her ballad and dirge.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Here she waited still in silence for his answer, a bitter harmony to her haunting carillon, and would wait until he completed her exeunt symphony.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Soulful eyes welled wet, brightly reflecting dying flames, and he leaned over her unmoving form, choking on her sighing breath. Quivering, diamond beads glittering on his lashes, he wove for her the final notes in his shaking breath, and silenced her voice and song forever with his trembling lips on her dry, warm mouth.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Bee**----------------------------**_

He did not move until her lips went cold beneath his own, until her breath relented to his. Cheek pressed to slack, cool cheek, he whispered goodbye to a deaf ear, and turned from the shell of a girl he might once have loved, and never looked back. He would not remember her as a husk, as a body; his last memory would be of her lips lightly pressing back against his mouth, her last living act, and his tears spilling down her face.

▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

Dick slipped out into the well-lit hallway, a broken, weary man.

Bruce leaned against the wall opposite, looking at him with solemn, unreadable eyes as the distant clatter of rushing nurses and doctors echoed toward them from down the hall.

"What happened?"

It was a soft, gentle question, and it demanded an answer.

Dick looked up at Bruce with hollow eyes and trembling hands. For a moment, he said nothing, communicating in silence the grief and sorrow in his face. Swallowing, he answered in an empty, drained voice, "I let her go."

Bruce said nothing, made no move, simply understood and accepted with those calm blue eyes. Compassion and warmth for the man who had been disciple, partner, brother, son, and friend softened the strong planes of his face, and he sighed softly through his nose. "Go home, Dick. Sleep. I'll take care of things here." He hesitated a moment, almost said something, thought better of it and changed his mind. "I'll talk to Barbara. Just… go. Mourn, and grieve, and let her go."

Dick could do no more than nod tiredly, his throat constricted by a hot, salty lump. Brushing back long black hair, he shoved his hands in his pockets and moved dreamlike down the hall, lips locked tight upon a memory.

▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

Deliberately vague.

Yes, that was Raven. Yes, that was some Raven/Robin romance. Yes, this is kind of AU. I kind of bridged and blended Batman: TAS and Teen Titans, as is my wont. This is after the disbanding of the Titans and round the beginnings of Dick's career as Nightwing.

Yes, he was with Barbara, aka Batgirl. (NOT Starfire, you silly hopefuls. I'll sooner eat my boots than write those two romantically.) Though, actually, this is supposed to be round the point that relationship starts falling apart, which will lead to the eventual coupling of Barbara and Bruce.

Bruce is there because… well, why wouldn't he be? Just because things are getting strained between them doesn't mean Bruce wouldn't be there for Dick at the death or likely death of an old friend.

I like to think many things can be supposed about this piece. So please, relate your supposings to me in a review. I love seeing what you people think; makes my day like nothing else.

P.S. Chapter 2 of Awkward Entanglements + another (sad) oneshot forthcoming, but slowly. Hang in there with me, folks; I'm not dead yet.

_+ Written to "Letting the Cables Sleep"—Bush and "Let go"—Frou Frou._


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